


Beck + Call

by InsideMyBrain



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Murder Girlfriends, Bisexual Murder Girlfriends - The Origin Story, Communication Failure, F/F, Friends With Benefits, I'm trash I know, Lack of Communication, No Smut, Songfic, Trust Issues, sorry I can't write smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideMyBrain/pseuds/InsideMyBrain
Summary: She loves me, she loves me not.In which Georgina is suspicious, and Esmé is caught off guard.





	Beck + Call

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing eswell, so go easy on me. there's lots of OOC-ness and one (1) random subplot thrown in bc why? I sure don't know. Enjoy, I guess?
> 
> (Also: this is set sometime during the austere academy.)

"Why do you want me today?"

Esmé raised an eyebrow. She'd just finished inviting the woman on the other end of the phone to her upscale penthouse for the night, an offer the optometrist usually couldn't resist. She'd spent the afternoon shopping for a new lingerie set, and had laboured over whether to choose red lace or black lace. She eventually settled on red, rushing home to call Georgina. Now, sitting in her new lingerie set with blood-red lips and eyeliner so sharp it could cut, she thought she'd heard her wrong.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Georgina sighed. "Can you answer me straight for once?"

Esmé had to bite her tongue to keep from making the obvious joke. "Darling, I want you because you're _you._ No one else is as mesmerizing, as - dare I say - hypnotizingly sexy. And besides," she said, her voice dropping to a sultry low tone, "I purchased something new especially for tonight. I'm sure you'll love it."

Esmé paused, expecting to hear the smile in Georgina's voice as she confirmed she'd be over in half an hour. Instead, she was met with an irritated huff. "Esmé, you buy new things every day."

"Yes, but most of the things I buy are for me. This is for you."

"What are we?"

Esmé was so surprised to hear this question that she pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it for a few moments.

They weren't dating. They were sexually involved, of course, but when that question is asked, a discussion about romance and feelings usually ensues. Romance and feelings were subjects Esmé refrained from discussing, especially in regards to herself. Of course, she liked Georgina. But for Esmé, the line between 'like' and 'love' was so blurred she'd stopped trying to define it. _I'll know when I know,_ she always thought to herself, but after many attempted relationships and a shitty marriage, she never knew. So when she met Georgina and was instantly attracted to her, she didn't bother trying to work out her feelings. She just went with it.

Apparently Georgina didn't have the same philosophy.

"We're friends with benefits, I suppose," Esmé said finally. "Two people who enjoy each other's company and have amazing sex." She smirked. "I must say darling, I didn't take you for the sort to ask something like that."

"I have a right to know what's going on," Georgina grumbled.

"Well, now you know."

"Do I?"

Esmé blinked. Georgina sounded confrontational all of a sudden.

"Do you want me because you love me, or you love yourself?"

"What does that even mean?" Esmé asked. The word 'love' echoed in her mind.

"Do you think it's fun to wind me up and set me spinning? Am I fun to play with, like your own toy?" Georgina's voice became louder with each word.

"You're not making any sense," Esmé told her.

"Esmé, you do this same shit every time I hear from you." Georgina was exasperated. "You call me, we meet, and we fuck. You act interested in my life but when I want to tell you something about me you brush me off. And when I ask you anything remotely personal, you change the subject. Yet you keep calling, you keep acting interested, and then you stop. I think you're playing with me."

"Where did this come from?" Esmé blurted. "I mean, what the fuck? Sorry for not being Olivia goddamn Caliban, but I can't read your mind," she huffed.

"You know what, never mind," Georgina said. "Forget I brought this up."

"Are you still coming over?" Esmé asked, her voice a little softer.

Georgina paused. "Yes," she said. "I'll be there."

Esmé grinned. "Excellent, darling. See you soon!" She hung up.

Georgina, halfway across the City, stared at her shiny black telephone for a few moments after she'd hung up. She hadn't meant to come after Esmé like that, but she didn't know how else to express her concern.

Over the course of their quasi-relationship, Georgina's sentiments towards Esmé had been changing. Of course, she hadn't realized it until this morning, when she woke up with the overwhelming fear that Esmé was using her.

Most of the people Georgina chose to get involved with were manipulators of some sort, as was she. It was the nature of their organization - of the world. However, she had never had this sense of panic about it before. Usually she accepted that her partners were liars and manipulators. But with Esmé, it was an encroaching fear the likes of which she'd never felt before. It confused her.

 _Of course she's using you, you moron,_ Georgina thought ruefully, putting her shoes on at the front door. _She's Esmé Squalor, the woman who does anything to get what she wants._

That didn't make it hurt less.

Georgina took a cab to 667 Dark Avenue. It was raining, and traffic was slow, so it took her much longer than usual to get there. She tapped her feet impatiently the whole way there.

When she finally arrived, most of the windows of the apartment building were dark. There was one at the very top that was lit from soft yellow light, Esmé's sharp silhouette cutting through the light like a knife through soft butter. Staring up at it, Georgina decided to put her concerns out of her mind for now.

After a short elevator ride, Georgina rang the bell at Esmé's door. Almost immediately, the door was wrenched open, and Georgina knew Esme had been waiting impatiently.

Esmé's striking figure filled the doorframe, her head almost touching the top as she stood in six inch heels. Her scarlet lingerie and black hair were starkly contrasted with her pale skin, which Georgina could see much of. She remembered a time when modern art was in, and Esmé had talked on and on about high contrast colours and sharp angles. She was the embodiment of a piece of modern art.

"You're finally here, Georgie," Esmé breathed.

Georgina didn't even get a chance to reply before Esmé kissed her hard and dragged her into the apartment.

-oooo-

Esmé opened her eyes, blinking blearily. Rolling over in bed, she checked the time: five o'clock in the morning. She groaned, pulling the covers up.

Georgina mumbled in her sleep and yanked the blankets back. Esmé scowled, wondering if she was just pretending to be asleep. She got out of bed with a sigh.

The penthouse was dark and quiet, like the whole place had been wrapped in a soft blanket. Esmé didn't like it. Quiet and stillness made her uneasy, made her feel as if she was being slowly suffocated.

Esmé located the loudest kitchen - in both senses of the word, it had a bright blue oven and its drawers were squeaky - and flipped on an overhead light. Immediately, she felt safer, and began to make coffee.

As the coffee gradually dripped into the pot, Esmé's thoughts couldn't help but turn to the conversation with Georgina earlier. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so unsure and insecure about what was going on between them. Esmé had been labouring under the delusion that they understood each other perfectly; they'd always had that natural chemistry.

Georgina's earlier accusation echoed in her mind: _do you want me because you love me, or you love yourself?_

That was the first time the 'L' word was brought up in relation to them. Of course, Esmé used it liberally for practically anything: a pair of shoes, the City's nightlife, her six-figure salary, and anything that was in. But she never meant it literally. And to hear Georgina toss it out into their conversation like any other word was quite a shock.

The coffee machine beeped, and Esmé poured herself a cup, adding a little cream. She sipped it thoughtfully.

Esmé didn't love Georgina. She was fairly certain that was correct. She liked her immensely, admired her unequivocally, and was extremely attracted to her, but she didn't _love_ her. It was true she had a magnetic quality and Esmé felt pulled towards her every time she was in her presence, but it still didn't seem like love. In fact, she was closer to Georgina than anyone else she'd ever met in her life, and there was not an inkling of romantic love.

"What the fuck," Esmé grumbled aloud, taking another sip of coffee.

Esmé had never had the fear that she was going to die alone. She was always surrounded by admirers and sexual partners a large circle of friends, so the thought had never occurred to her. But now, sitting in one of her many kitchens at five in the morning, the fear hit her. It hit her hard, slamming into her like a train going full speed. She even gasped aloud, something she rarely did, and clutched at her chest. Unwanted tears sprang to her eyes, and she rubbed them away stubbornly.

Amid the sudden emotion, a thought arose. _If you can't love Georgina, after everything, then you can't love anyone. You cannot love._

Esmé put down her coffee cup, rattling the saucer as she set it unsteadily down. She felt more tears running uncontrollably down her face, and wiped them away aggressively.

"Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor, the City's sixth most important financial advisor, does not cry," she said to herself. "Especially about something as ridiculous as this."

After a great deal of sniffling and wiping her face, Esmé decided to go to the nearest bathroom and remove her makeup. It'd been ruined for a long time anyway.

The nearest one was right by the front door of the penthouse, and as she was taking off her eyeliner, she heard the door open.

"What the fuck?" she whispered to herself in the mirror, hastily scrubbing off any lipstick remnants. She yanked the bathroom door open and went to the front hall.

Standing there was her husband, struggling to remove his shoes with an ugly shoehorn.

"Jerome?" she said.

"Honey!" He looked up and smiled weakly, dropping the shoehorn.

"What are you doing home?" Esmé asked, watching him lean down to pick it up. "I thought you were away for the week. For work."

"They let me off early," he said, finally removing a shoe. He began attempting to pry the other one off his foot.

"Great," she said. "You're probably tired from the flight. Why don't you go to the nearest bedroom and sleep?"

"Well, I'm not, but-"

"Are you arguing with me?"

"No, you know I hate arguing."

"Then don't," Esmé said impatiently. "I'll join you later."

"Alright," he said.

Esmé left and went back to the kitchen. When she heard him finally remove his other shoe and leave the front hallway, she crept back to the bedroom where she'd left Georgina.

"Georgie?" she whispered, shaking her gently. "Darling, wake up, you have to go."

"Mhm?" Georgina said, opening her eyes. She squinted up at Esmé.

"Jerome's back from work early," she explained. "I'm sorry to kick you out but you must go."

"Shit," Georgina mumbled, grabbing her glasses and slipping them on. "Shall I leave out the fire escape, or..."

"No need," said Esmé, "I sent him to bed."

Georgina stood up. "You're like his mommy."

"If only our sex life was that interesting."

Esmé saw Georgina to the door, despite her protests that she'd been to the apartment many times and could find it on her own. As she was leaving, Esme said, "talk to you soon?"

"Yeah," said Georgina. "Bye, Esmé."

"Bye, darling."

The door clicked shut.

-oooo-

Georgina was anxious, sitting in the restaurant that was much more high-end than she was used to.

It'd been two days since she'd spent the night at Esmé's, and her unease about the situation hadn't lessened one bit. Figuring another attempt at expressing her concern wouldn't hurt, she invited Esmé to lunch.

This was new for them, and it became glaringly obvious when they set about planning the meal. First, Esmé absolutely refused to be seen at any place that wasn't in, and Georgina almost broke her telephone in frustration. When they finally picked the place, Esmé inquired as to why she wanted to meet, informing Georgina she was being "awfully strange lately, darling." Georgina didn't want to attempt to explain over the phone, so she just said, "you'll find out." This was a mistake, as Esmé seemed to interpret it as something sexual.

Georgina shifted in her seat and took a sip of her water.

Going into this luncheon, Georgina knew what she wanted: she wanted to move towards a romantic relationship with Esmé. Mulling over exactly _why_ she was so paranoid about Esmé using her had led to this conclusion. Her feelings towards Esmé were more than purely platonic. It was probably inevitable, as they'd been sleeping together for months. But Esmé's stance on their relationship hadn't seemed to change one bit. This was why something felt off to Georgina; she'd moved ahead while Esmé stayed behind. She understood now that Esmé was not intentionally using her, but she was still worried.

Simply put, Georgina didn't know what would happen if she told Esmé she wanted a romantic relationship, and that made her anxious. She was troubled by the disturbing suspense of how Esmé would react. Would she drop Georgina quicker than a restaurant that was out? Would she suddenly lose that easy chemistry she and Georgina had always shared? But the worst possible outcome that Georgina could think of was nothing. It would be unbearable if nothing changed in their current relationship, and they went back to their routine of fucking twice a week. For now that Georgina understood what she wanted, that would be worse than Esmé simply disappearing from her life.

The restaurant door opened, and Georgina looked up. Esmé walked in, wearing a pinstriped cocktail dress that wasn't exactly appropriate to be wearing before noon. Dangling from her ears were earrings shaped like eyes, diamond teardrops hanging from the corners. Her heels, also pinstriped, clicked on the polished wooden floor as she walked over to sit at Georgina's booth.

"So, Georgie," Esmé said, placing a large pinstriped purse on the table, "why are we here?" The corners of her lips, which were painted black today, turned up.

"Well," Georgina started to say.

"Hello, ladies!" an overly-cheerful waiter interrupted. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Two aqueous martinis," Esmé ordered. He nodded and walked away.

Esmé turned back to her with a smirk. "I'm all ears, darling."

"You know, we never do this," Georgina began casually.

"Go out for lunch?"

"Go out anywhere together." Georgina corrected. "Why don't we?"

Esmé shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose it's because I'm always so busy."

"What do you do at work?" Georgina asked. "I mean, I know you're a financial advisor, but what does that entail?"

"Mostly assisting people in making big transactions or paying taxes and loans," Esmé said.

"Sounds... Dull, if I'm being honest." Georgina smiled wryly.

"It's not, actually," said Esmé enthusiastically. "Each client presents their own unique challenges. And you know how much I enjoy telling people what to do." They laughed. "But why the sudden interest in my career?"

"Well, I feel like I don't know you, Esmé." Georgina responded. "I'm trying fix that?"

"Don't know me?" Esmé cocked her head. "You know me better than anyone else."

"You're a very private person, then," Georgina remarked.

"Aren't we both?" Esmé quipped.

Before Georgina got a chance to reply, the waiter reappeared with their drinks.

"Here you are," he said, setting them down on the table. "Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?"

"Definitely a few more minutes," Esmé told him, picking up the menu for the first time.

"Sure," he said, then left.

The two were quiet for a few minutes, perusing the menu. Georgina decided on a sandwich, choosing the most familiar one on a menu full of foods she'd never heard of before. She closed the menu and looked at Esmé, who was still scanning it with a thoughtful eye.

"So, Esmé," Georgina said, "I was thinking, maybe we should make some changes in our relationship."

Esmé looked up. "You mean our relationship that's not a relationship?"

"Well, I suppose."

Esmé closed the menu, apparently having decided. "Why?"

"I think we're stuck. We're stuck in this routine and it's not enough," Georgina said.

"I thought you liked routine." Esmé sipped her martini.

"You're missing the point." Georgina sighed. "I want to learn more about you, go out with you, do more things like this. I can't believe I'm saying this, but your penthouse has been feeling constricting lately."

Esmé nodded. "Alright."

Georgina blinked. "Alright?"

"Yeah." Esmé gave her a smile, that genuine smile of hers that was so rare but Georgina loved seeing. "We can go out and do things, we can talk more. You should have just said you wanted to be better friends."

"No, uh..." Georgina gulped. "I meant in a romantic way. I want you to be my girlfriend, Esmé."

"Oh."

Esmé's face reflected surprise and confusion, but most of all, a sort of repulsion that hurt Georgina deeply.

"I don't know if I can do that," Esmé said.

"Are you two ready to order?" the peppy waiter said, startling Georgina with his sudden reappearance.

"Uh, yes." Georgina opened the menu, glancing over the dish she wanted. "The bison club sandwich with a side of salad, please." She handed him the menu.

"And for you?" he asked Esmé.

"I'll have the Ortolan," she told him.

"Great! I'll get that started for you." The waiter beamed once more, then walked away.

There was silence between the two for a moment. Then, Georgina spoke.

"So, what then? Do we just continue how we are?"

Esmé sighed. "I don't know." Georgina gave her an annoyed look. "What do you want me to say?" she asked defensively. "If you want me still, you know how to contact me. If you don't, it's okay."

"Is that really all you have to say?" Georgina was annoyed.

"What else is there to say?" Esmé shrugged.

Georgina sighed, irritated. "I don't know. Why are you putting the ball entirely in my court? I'm trying to be a mature adult and communicate with you. In case you haven't figured it out, that's what adults do."

Esmé's dark eyes flashed in brief anger, sending a thrill down Georgina's spine. But then it was gone, leaving Georgina more irked than ever before.

"You know what you're doing right now?" she said to Esmé. "You're acting like Jerome."

Esmé leaned in, pointing a sharp fingernail at Georgina. "You take that back," she said forcefully.

"I'll take it back when you stop acting like him," Georgina said, fighting to keep the smile off her face.

"I am _nothing_ like him." Esmé's eyes were blazing now. "I am nothing like the passive, pathetic, vegetative little bitch my piss-poor excuse for a husband is."

"There's the passionate woman I love!" Georgina exclaimed, only too late realizing what she'd said.

Esmé lowered her hand. "You love me?"

"Well, uh, maybe," Georgina said, trying to backtrack.

Esmé looked down. Georgina took a sip of her drink awkwardly.

Esmé stood up. Though her face looked strained and her hands clutched at each other, she still maintained that air of grace that made her so alluring. "Excuse me for a moment," she said, the word 'darling' painfully missing from the end of her sentence.

She walked away quickly, feeling Georgina's eyes on her back. Entering the women's restroom hastily, she slipped into a stall and locked it behind her.

For the first time in her life, Esmé was experiencing the waves of panic and confusion that came with being unprepared. No matter what she was doing or where she was, Esmé was always prepared; she brought champagne to assassinations and daggars to cocktail parties. But nothing she packed in her oversized purse that day could help her with her current situation, not even her favourite knife or emergency tampons. No, Esmé was emotionally unprepared, which was an entirely new concept to her.

Esmé didn't know what to do or say in this situation. She'd charmed her way out of awkward situations before, but this was vastly, frighteningly different. Georgina loved her, and Esmé didn't love her back. She was frustrated at her own heart for not loving Georgina back, for this could have been the simplest thing in the world if she did. Esmé wanted to keep seeing this gorgeous, magnetic woman for a long time, but she was afraid to continue, being unable to return Georgina's feelings. She felt if they continued how they were, she would be using Georgina, as she feared. And she knew it would break Georgina's heart to have her so close, yet so far.

"There's only one option," Esmé said aloud.

"Pardon?" a woman called from two stalls over.

"Never mind," Esmé muttered, then exited the stall. She quickly touched up her makeup in the mirror, and returned to their table.

Esmé slid back into the booth, noticing their food had arrived. Georgina was eating her sandwich, and Esmé paused in carving her roast bird to watch her for a moment.

It had just occurred to her, she'd never seen Georgina eat. When they went out, which was rarely, it was always for drinks. Esmé had watched those lips wrap around a cocktail glass many times, anticipating when those lips would travel over her body, making her shiver in arousal. But watching her actually eat something was different. She felt a strange sensation, like she was staring into a part of Georgina she'd never seen before.

Georgina put down the sandwich. "What?"

Esmé shook her head quickly. "Nothing, Georgie."

The rest of the meal passed quickly, the only conversation exchanged being uncomfortable small talk. When they were finished eating and Esmé had paid the bill - she insisted - Georgina asked, "when will I hear from you again?"

Esmé paused, frowning. Then, she said, "I don't know, Georgie. It might not be for a while." She leaned in and kissed Georgina softly on the mouth.

Then she walked away.

-oooo-

Esmé sighed, taking a sip of her cocktail. She'd gone out tonight hoping to have some fun and forget about her anxiety over Georgina, but everyone in the bar was terribly boring.

It'd been a few days since she'd had lunch with Georgina, and she hadn't tried to contact her once. She was hoping that being away from her would do her some good, calm her nerves and put her worries at ease, but it hadn't done a thing. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect; Esmé's mind spun scenario after scenario of how Georgina could have been affected by this, each one worse than the last. Yesterday, for one horrifying moment, she'd wondered if Georgina had tried to go back to Olaf, and realized that she needed to get her mind off of her.

So here she was, in one of her favourite bars, on a night where it just so happened to be populated with the most unfashionable people she'd ever seen. Esmé took another sip of her drink, scanning the bar. _This place will probably be out by next week,_ she thought glumly.

Out the corner of her eye, Esmé saw a man approaching her. A quick glance at his clothes told her he knew what was in, and a quick glance at his face told her he was very handsome. She turned towards him and smiled.

"You're a very beautiful woman," he said, without even introducing himself.

"I already knew that," Esmé told him.

Instead of getting offended, like many people did when she said this, he laughed. "Nick E. Jecquasst," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.

Esmé took it. "What an unusual name," she commented.

"I find the people with unusual names are usually the most fascinating," Nick said.

"Indeed," said Esmé. "My name is Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor," she introduced herself grandly, "and I am the City's sixth most important financial advisor."

"Ah yes, I was just reading an article on you last week," he said. "Written by that rising star reporter, Geraldine Julienne."

"Ah, Geraldine is a lovely girl," Esmé said. "So eager to please." She watched Nick's face to gauge his reaction, but there was nothing.

Instead of responding to Esmé's comment about Geraldine, Nick looked at Esmé's hands. "Did you forget to put your wedding ring on this morning?" he joked.

"I put it on this morning when I went to work," she said, "but I took it off on purpose this evening."

Nick grinned. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Esmé finished her drink. "Sure." She wasn't attracted to him very strongly, but he would have to do. She let him slip an arm around her waist, all the while knowing he wouldn't be very good and she would regret this tomorrow.

The pair made their way through the bar to the door. Once outside, Nick flagged down a taxi, and they got in.

As the taxi began to roll down the street, Nick grabbed her face and kissed her roughly. Esmé kissed back, almost out of obligation. It suddenly felt wrong to be kissing this total stranger in the back of a taxi, though she'd done it many, many times before. Why was it different now?

Esmé's thoughts once again turned to Georgina, and she imagined Nick to be her. Instead of rough stubble, she imagined soft, plush skin. Instead of the smell of heavy cologne, she imagined Georgina's sweet perfume. And instead of his stringy, short hair she was clutching, she imagined threading her fingers through Georgina's bob as they kissed roughly in the back of a taxi.

 _Do I love Georgina?_ Esmé thought in confusion, as Nick began kissing her neck. _This feels like cheating, though we never said we were monogamous. And when I'm around her, I feel like the best version of myself. But what if I'm not? What if I'm just trying to convince myself I do because it's what she wants?_

Esmé was so wrapped up in her thoughts she barely felt Nick's hands travelling lower.

 _Maybe I'm just projecting,_ Esmé thought wildly. _Maybe I can't love, yet I so desperately want to that I'm projecting those wants onto her. Why am I so unsure? Why are all the lines blurring? Why-_

Esmé lost her train of thought as she felt Nick's hand slip into the purse at her side. Thinking quickly, she pulled a small handgun from where it was tucked into her garter, and pointed it at him, pulling out of the kiss.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she snarled, chest heaving and lipstick smeared.

"Where are the Baudelaires?" he asked in return.

Esmé was caught off guard. "What? They're dead. Aren't they?"

For a moment, Nick - if that even was his real name - seemed as if he were about to reply. Then, he kicked Esmé to the other side of the taxi. Esmé's hand jerked up, causing her to accidentally pull the trigger. The driver, scared by the sudden shot, swerved, and Esmé was flung back into Nick's lap.

Esmé put the gun to his chin, wrenching open his closed fist with her other hand. Finding nothing was in it, she glared at him. "Where is the sugar bowl?"

Nick's nostrils flared. "Up my ass," he said, before opening the taxi door and tumbling out into the night.

Esmé, left hanging onto the taxi door, screamed, "FUCK!"

She hoisted herself back into the taxi with a long sigh, slamming the door behind her.

"Everything okay?" the driver asked, his voice trembling.

"Change of route," she told him. "667 Dark Avenue."

-oooo-

One week.

It'd been one week since Georgina and Esmé had gone out for lunch, and Georgina was restless. Esmé hadn't contacted her at all, not even in code, and she was left feeling irritated and unsatisfied.

She didn't understand what bothered Esmé so much about being her girlfriend. She was fine with the concept, until Georgina called it romantic. What about that word made Esmé so repulsed? It was just a word, the actual relationship had nothing to do with the words they applied to it. And yet, Esmé had withdrawn faster than what was in changed.

Georgina sighed, looking around at her home. After faking her death in Paltryville, she'd bought this place in the City with money from an offshore bank account she had for emergencies. It was small, but furnished nicely with everything she needed. Despite how she'd been involved with Esmé for months, the other woman had never been here.

 _She'd probably say everything here is out anyway,_ she thought ruefully. She took a sip of her wine, her gaze drifting to the telephone on the side table by the couch.

Why hadn't Esmé come to her house? The answer was obvious; Georgina had never invited her. All this time, Esmé was the one making advances, calling Georgina and inviting her out for drinks, or to her penthouse for the night. Georgina had sat back and let herself be pulled along by Esmé's tidal wave impulsivity, never thinking of making a move herself. After her brief reconnection with Olaf, being able to relax and trust Esmé was a treat.

Georgina put down her wine and frowned. _All this time I let myself be at her beck and call,_ she thought. She glanced at the phone again. Georgina was not a fanciful person, but she could have sworn the mechanical device was calling her name.

Georgina wrenched the phone off the receiver, dialing Esmé's number as fast as she could. She put the phone to her ear, holding her breath as it rang.

There was a click, then Esmé's voice said, “hello?”

“Esmé, it's me,” said Georgina.

“Oh.” Esmé sounded surprised and a little relieved. “How are you?”

“I would be better if I saw you,” she said. “Would you like to come over?”

She could hear the smile in Esmé's voice as she said, “now?”

“Yes.”

Esmé exhaled, and Georgina could tell she was grinning. “What's the address, darling?”

Georgina grinned too. “11 Hazelwood Avenue.”

“I'll be right there,” Esmé said, then hung up.

Georgina hung up, smiling. Then she realized she had to get ready, and ran to her bedroom.

Luckily, her sheets were clean, having just changed them yesterday, so all she had to do was spray perfume over her bed quickly. She shimmied out of her blue jeans and loose shirt, then opened her lingerie drawer. After a moment of consideration, she decided on a mauve silk set Esmé had bought her a month ago. She was just zipping up a short black dress when she heard the doorbell ring.

Georgina ran towards the door, her bare feet slapping on the cold tile floor. She took a moment to collect herself, run a hand through her hair, then opened the door.

Esmé stood on the threshold, peering around curiously. She was wearing a tight dress, bright blue and adorned with feathers and glittering jewels. On anyone else, Georgina would have thought it ridiculous, but on Esmé it was stunning. Her makeup matched her dress; she had on navy blue lipstick and cobalt eyeliner. She smiled at Georgina.

“I was afraid I had the wrong address for a moment,” she said.

“Well, you definitely don't,” Georgina replied, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Esmé stepped inside, her heels clicking on Georgina's floor. She looked around as Georgina closed and locked the door behind her.

“Not quite how I pictured your home,” Esmé said, “but I like it nonetheless. Did you know accent walls are in, or is that just a coincidence?”

“Must be a coincidence,” Georgina said. She took a step towards Esmé, running her eye up and down her figure. “Did you know that dress would make me want to take it off, or is it a coincidence?”

Esmé laughed, brushing her hand over Georgina's waist. She leaned in. “Oh, I knew, darling.”

Georgina grasped Esmé's hips, pulling her closer. Their bodies fit together perfectly, like they were strategically crafted just for each other.

Neither spoke for a moment. Esmé could feel Georgina's heartbeat in her own chest and her warm breath on her face.

Then Esmé kissed her, cupping Georgina's face with one hand and twining her fingers into her hair with the other. Georgina returned the kiss, her hands blindly trying to find the zip of Esmé's dress. Esmé pulled away and took Georgina's hands, wordlessly guiding them to the zipper at the back of her neck. She kissed Georgina again as she unzipped Esmé's dress and began to palm the warm flesh underneath.

Esmé let out a moan as the dress dropped to the floor. “Please, Georgie. I need you. _Now._ ”

Georgina took Esmé's hand and led her to the bedroom.

Georgina didn't believe the saying ‘love is blind’, but in a dark bedroom, blindness was inevitable. And perhaps, finding love within confusion was inevitable as well.

-oooo-

Esmé sighed in comfort, nestling Georgina's covers around them both. Georgina's soft breath was on her shoulder and her arms were wrapped around Esmé's torso. It was dark and quiet, but somehow, Esmé didn't mind.

“So,” Georgina whispered. “What now?”

Esmé felt her body tense up. She felt the urge to reply very literally, but she knew that would ruin the whole night. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “well, I've been thinking.”

She felt Georgina's breath pause. She continued, “we can try being in a real relationship. I want to take it slow, though. No labels like ‘girlfriend’, at least not yet. But yes, let's try a romantic relationship.”

Georgina buried her face in Esmé's neck. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Esmé shifted around so that she faced Georgina, and kissed her softly. “I don't love you, you know.” She looked into Georgina's eyes. “And I don't know if I ever will. Hell, I don't know if I'll ever know what love even feels like. But I do care about you, darling - more than I have for anyone else in my entire life. I hope that can be enough.” She searched Georgina's face for a reaction.

Georgina tucked a lock of Esmé's hair behind her ear. “It's more than enough.” She kissed her briefly.

Esmé smiled, that warm genuine smile she rarely offered, and it seemed to light up the dark room.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr if ya like, @call-me-ish


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